Ex Lacrima Remnant

Track #3 – Into the Woods

Primula’s roots twitched again around her neck. Like kids begging their mom for attention, those extensions of her body wouldn’t leave her alone, even when she wanted them to. Which was annoying, especially after having been heavily reprimanded for one hour straight. That went ugly, by all standards, with the only positive side of having learned two or three new ways to make someone feel like a failure. She let out a sigh, closing her eyes too to forget about the outside world for a moment longer. Sunbathing, photosynthesizing in the greenhouse, alone. Only the fertile soil, the focusing windows that let light in, and her. The only intimate, alone time she was allowed to get. She craved for solitude, after having been belittled and berated for sixty minutes and counting. You useless plank of firewood. We should have burned you after your first mistake. You filthy overgrown salad. Every soldier who died yesterday was worth ten of you. Sucking their corpses dry was disgusting! Be happy we aren’t incinerating you on the spot. Way to go. If they wanted to make her feel useless, they surely hit the right spot. Now, the tape of her debacle was circulating around the comnet too, courtesy of some bloke that downloaded a copy of the footage from the CCTV cameras and sent it to the journos.So, there it was. The gruesome death of twenty human beings and her embarrassing defeat for all to see. To make matters worse, her spine needed at least three days to generate another spear, so she had to take care of the one she created, if she didn’t want to be short on natural weapons. So much for a powerful trait – all other rhizomes in the precinct must have been happy about her utter failure. If she fell from grace, they could take her place. So, there she was, enjoying her loneliness, trying to forget her woes, as her roots delved into the ground, as nutrients filled her body through her soles.

Alone with her thoughts.

Alone with herself.

Or at least she thought so, till a sound of steps broke her contemplation and a known face made his appearance through the entrance door.

“Prim? May I come in?”

A low roar as a reply. Peace was broken. Wrong time as usual.

“Just a moment.”

Primula covered her body with a towel, a pink one with a pattern of white bunnies that she always brought with her in the greenhouse whenever she wanted to photosynthesize. Even for a rhizome, it was embarrassing to carry a conversation in the nude, especially with a human. She still remembered the first time that happened, almost as if it were yesterday. First week at the precinct, still getting accustomed to her new home. That greenhouse felt so luscious and wonderful, compared to the lab she was grown in. So, she didn’t wait a second longer before undressing and letting the sun caress her skin in that lavish eden. Only for a girl with red hair and twin braids to barge in by chance and have a good look at her exposed body. That made past-Prim freak out in a burst of embarrassment, only for the girl to stand still and stare at her as if she had witnessed something out of that world, her jaw almost dropping. Before excusing herself and getting out of sight, saying sorry at least a dozen times in a row, with what looked like a flustered look on her face. Prim never talked with her ever again, just saw her around the precinct a couple times, gazing at her from the distance, before she disappeared. Finding out that that girl had become the terrorist known as Kryzalid, the very same Kryzalid that made a joke out of her last night, was nothing less than an unpleasant shock. That wasn’t possible. Mimi and Kryzalid. Kryzalid and Mimi. Those two couldn’t be the same. That shy girl who got flustered by seeing her in the greenhouse couldn’t be the sadistic violinist that killed twenty people without batting an eye. There had to be a mistake, somewhere. Mimi, the innocent Mimi, somehow turned into the criminal Kryzalid. That couldn’t be right.

She decided to shelve that thought quickly, turn back to the present moment, to the knocking at the greenhouse door. One thing that Prim learned from that first meeting with Mimi was to bring something to quickly cover herself with, might the need arise – which was why that pink towel with white bunnies was always with her, while in the greenhouse. Even now, said towel made it possible for her to face her unexpected guest without getting hit by another spike of embarrassment. Said guest was an averagely tall man that responded to the name of Frijderik den Malstrom (Mal for friends). He sported curly black hair and a light brown complexion. His unusual emerald eyes, though, made talks about his heritage more of a guessing game – while his eyebrow piercings made many question how he was still part of the Peacekeeping Corps. In a way, it wasn’t something he could choose, since conscripts were more or less mandated to serve their term till the very end, no matter what happened. Still, many agents had been reprimanded on the ground of look unbecoming and condemned to community service or long periods of forced isolation. Evidently, Mal didn’t slam his face against that wall yet, didn’t get the memo or didn’t get someone to spell it out for him. Or simply ignored it. Maybe, it was all a ploy to get discharged and claw his civilian life back. Unfortunately for him, the higher ups knew exactly how to deal with troublemakers like him – make their mandatory service longer and longer the harder they tried to be released sooner. If that were the case, Mal had probably sealed his fate as one of the few ten-yearers of legend.

“What do you want, Mal?”

Prim crossed her arms, tapped her foot on the ground, as her roots twitched and twisted around her neck. They had recognized Mal too, in a way. He was the only person she ever allowed to disrupt her moments of quiet, after all – all other agents would have been dead on the spot, at that point. Mal, though, wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box and didn’t seem to realize that, even after several repeated warnings. Mal brushed his hair, before absent-mindedly averting his gaze from Prim’s bunny towel.

“Just wanted to see how you were faring after, you know…”

“I’m fine. Leave me alone.”

“Hey, hey, hey! Just like that? I haven’t even…”

“Yes.”

Mal groaned, smashed his open hand on his forehead in frustration. Prim stared at him for a second, before closing her eyes, averting her gaze too. He looked like them. He was wearing their same uniform. The same suit as the soldiers that died under her watch the night before. Instinctively, her hand went to her stomach, as that churning sensation returned. Becoming stronger. Stronger. Stronger. She was there, again, shifting her body structure to counteract the pressure waves, as heads popped around her. Pop. Pop. Pop. She puffed her cheeks, tried to keep her body in check, to delete that image from her mind. Until she couldn’t take it anymore. She felt her gastric juices flowing up, her diaphragm, her muscles making way for them. Till she just had to let that feeling overtake her. Let herself vomit. Green fluid left her mouth with a guttural cry, as both of her hands rested on her belly, her legs shook, her balance tilted. A long breath. A short breath. Then, another round of vomiting, of waste lymph poured on the dirt. She fell on her knees, her breathing ragged, her lips sullied, her tongue trying to dispel the aftertaste. Only for Mal to reach out for her, his fingers almost touching her shoulder. Before retracting them at the last second, as soon as the wooden tendrils around her neck twitched. He stood a couple meters away from her, observing in silence, before finally saying the first word.

“Fine, huh?”

“Shut… up.”

“I get it, I get it. Wanna talk?”

Prim got back on her feet, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Mal shrugged, whistled at the sight of the pool at her feet, slowly being absorbed by the soil underneath. He pointed at the ooze, before somehow smirking at the still recovering rhizome.

“You know you could have canned that and sold it on the BM for big bucks, yes?”

“Huh-uh. Lymph junkies… would drink literal plant vomit.”

“If only it were just vomit! You should see how many cans of processed rhizome urine we confiscated last week at the harbor. Guess!”

“…two hundred?”

“Two hundred packs. One thousand six hundred cans in total, ready to be sold on the BM. I don’t understand, where do they even get that much plant piss?”

“…I’d… check the company that manages the rhizome restrooms here at the precinct.”

Mal massaged his chin, looked up to the ceiling, only to turn back immediately as the almost unfiltered rays of the sun made him understand his mistake.

“Rrrrright, they look suspicious. That old lady with one eye might be the ring leader. I don’t like the way she always grins at you.”

“I’m sure her cat is in too. I’d suggest burning him.”

“You really hate that critter, huh.”

“That demon. He loves to scratch my roots. Sometimes my skin too.”

“That lady’s a witch, I tell ya.”

“Might as well be.”

Prim let herself slump against a tree. A long breath. Another. Another. Her heart back to a normal rhythm, her memories washed out. The popping noise canceled by the quiet, by Mal’s obnoxious voice. She stood silent for some seconds, letting her skin enjoy the sunlight, her roots and tendrils relax and distend. Mal didn’t say a word, simply stood there, waiting for her to begin – because he was sure she was going to talk. And, sure as heck, she did, her words leaving her lips slowly, with fatigue.

“I’ve drank their water to heal myself, Mal. I… ravaged their corpses. They died and… and I didn’t feel anything except annoyance. No pain, no sadness. Just… annoyance.”

So, that’s what was eating at you, was Mal’s first thought. He didn’t say anything, let her go on.

“Annoyance that my bonus was going to be cut and that I’d be put on rationed water, one day for each casualty. Twenty days… on minimum water supply. That… that was the one thing that scared me. I can’t even remember their faces. I just… I think there’s a reason why…”

Mal shrugged.

“Alright, alright, miss top-of-the-food-chain. I get it. First time you saw one of your men die in action, huh?”

“…yes.”

“And?”

“…I asked myself how their water would taste. Instead of… you know, mourning or feeling sad, or shocked. Almost as if they were an enemy. Same… thoughts.”

“Jeez, you see me as an emergency snack too?”

“More like last-resort junk food.”

“…do I look like a cowburger?”

“No, more like those dirt-cheap fat pills that taste like fries.”

“…sounds like you tried them.”

“…in a moment of weakness.”

Mal shook his head, shrugged.

“A plant gal eating fries-replacement pills. Man, ain’t that cute.”

“Shut up, I was starving! And they tasted so bad that maybe it would have been better if I starved!”

“Wait, are you saying my taste’s bad too?!”

“I’ve never eaten you, so I can’t know.”

“I… huh, hope I’ll never have to test that.”

Mal stepped back, walked close to the entrance, grabbed something standing just close to it, slightly out of Prim’s field of view. He smiled at her, returned with a bag in his hands.

“By the way…”

He rummaged through the bag for a couple seconds, before extracting something out of it. Prim glanced at the object standing among his fingers, glanced at him again with a puzzled look on her face. In front of her, stood a white rabbit plushie, almost fifty centimeters long.

“…this is for you. I thought you’d need an ‘emotional support plushie’, after what happened.”

“An… emotional support what?”

“I know that you like bunnies – or, rather, that you only like bunnies. So, yeah, ‘twas an easy choice.”

Without waiting for her reaction, Mal put the plushie in her arms, under her even more confused gaze, a gaze that was shifting from the stuffed animal, to the man giving it to her, to the stuffed animal again. An ‘emotional support plushie’. She didn’t have the slightest idea of what any of that meant. So, reluctantly, she felt like she needed to ask, as embarrassing as that might have been.

“How… huh, does it work?”

“When you feel down, you rub him a little in your lap and tell him what went wrong with your day. He can’t answer, but he’s a good listener.”

She hugged the plushie, carefully, trying to avoid damaging it with her tendrils. It was soft. Its fur was soft. Almost like a real bunny, yet different. She patted its head, touched its falling ears that reminded her of braids. She tried to pull them up, but, somehow, liked them more when they were down, so she let them fall back to their original state. Then, she stared at Mal, with, if possible, an even more puzzled expression than before.

“So, huh, rubbing in my lap aside, it’s just like what I do with you?”

“…sorta.”

“Are you my ‘emotional support human’, then?”

Mal’s cheek swelled all of a sudden, his eyes widened. He tried to resist till the end, with the best of his efforts. Yet, those weren’t enough. And he burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

“Oh Lagash, oh Lagash! Emotional support human?”

He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop laughing even if he wanted, as tears poured out of his eyes.

“You… you can’t say something like that and hope I remain serious, Prim!”

Prim groaned, pulled the plushie close to her chest. That was hers, now. A gift. That realization made her feel weird. A gift. Almost as if Mal saw her as a human being. Or, maybe, as a pet. Still, better than being considered an abomination. Or maybe not. If he feared her, everything would have been easier. She couldn’t make head or tails of that. So, she instead tried to think of a good name for the rabbit. Precious things had to be named. That was one thing she had learned, in her time at the precinct. So, she chose. Naturally, almost without thinking.

“Riri. Now, you are Riri.”

“Oya, that’s one cute name. I was scared you’d call it Mal.”

“Scared I’d replace you with a stuffed toy?”

“Nah, I’m better than that.”

Prim looked at him, with something resembling a smile finally opening on her face. Mal picked up on it, almost started laughing again.

“Woah, girl, you are smiling, now? You, of all people?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Well, then my job’s done. Gotta go back to my chores ‘fore the iron bitch makes me clean the rhizome toilets”

“I’d never want you to clean my restroom, thanks.”

“Hey, why?”

“Your desk.”

Mal groaned, chewing his words under his breath.

“…good point, I guess. See you ‘round, Prim.”

“Just one… one last thing.”

Primula fiddled with her hair, pulled her new plushie to her chest, almost delving her face into it too. Mal scratched his head, looked back at her, raised his eyebrow as he did when he was confused by something.

“Yes?”

“Their water was tainted, Mal.”

Mal froze in place, blinked for a second, trying to connect the dots on what she said.

“Huh, excuse me?”

“The agents of that team. Their water… was wrong. It tasted all wrong! There was something into it. Something that… I don’t know, maybe I’m just insane, okay? But…”

She pulled the stuffed animal even closer to her chest, closed her eyes, let out a long sigh.

“Never mind. I’m just stressed.”

Mal shrugged once more, shook his head for a good measure.

“Whatevs. You can always call me, yes? Or… talk to your new pet first.”

Then, he waved his hand before turning back to the door of the greenhouse.

“Duh, I really gotta go or I’ll be reprimanded more than usual. Have a good ‘synth, Prim!”

The door closed behind him with a hiss, hiding him from her sight. Then, the sound of steps resounded in the corridor, farther and farther away from the greenhouse. Prim stood still, looking at the now closed door once again, then gazed at the plushie, grabbing it with one hand. She quickly undid the knot on her towel, let it fall again on the ground. She straightened it a bit, gently put down the stuffed rabbit on it, so that it wouldn’t get dirty. She bent down, looked at it in its glass eyes, patted its synthetic fur.

“Do you think I’m weird, Riri?”

Of course, Riri couldn’t reply. It was just a toy, after all. Yet, in her mind, Prim heard Mal’s voice, as if it came from the motionless rodent.

“Yeah, nah. What does weird even mean?”

It wasn’t a real answer, it was a figment of her imagination, but it felt like the real deal. Satisfied by that, she patted Riri’s head once more, before standing up and spreading her arms, exposing all of her body to the incoming light. It was still early, the sun was shining bright in the sky. Not using that occasion for photosynthesizing would have been a shameful waste of resources.